


Desperate to Have

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Desperation Play, Dirty Talk, Lapdance, M/M, Mild S&M, Multiple Orgasms, Public Sex, Sexual Inexperience, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Undercover Missions, Virginity Kink, copious amounts of precum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Damian's got a thing for keeping himself desperate and needy. He doesn't want to lose his virginity so he'll never lose that feeling.





	Desperate to Have

**Author's Note:**

> For #TimDamiWeek - Day 6: Virginity Kink  
> Beta: kate1zena

Damian had honestly never thought that he'd find himself here. Not in this particular sort of position and certainly not about to give in to something he had wanted to explore for _years_. He shifted slightly on his chair, crossing his legs in such a way as to hide what this was already doing to him. 

Music thrummed around him, the beat of the next song vibrating through the air in a way that set his senses on edge, that left him already more excited than he had any right to be, particularly given that he was basically setting out on an adventure of what amounted to self-torture. 

Tim had gone undercover exactly nine days ago. While Tim Drake had disappeared on a much needed vacation, leaving Gotham pleading for their beautiful Wayne Enterprises employee to come back to them and Red Robin _had been_ spotted in a number of places upstate, Damian knew the truth. Tim had wormed his way into working for one of the upscale strip clubs that catered to everyone's tastes, the dancers ranging across the spectrum and the patrons just the same. 

The club itself wasn't the issue. Rather the people who actually owned it further up the chain were; they had been trafficking in illegal drugs, weapons, and rumor held it – metas. The low powered ones that couldn't use whatever their abilities were to defend themselves, people who had changed in various ways – some with their skin pale purple, others with odd mutations of the eyes – even a few that had powers that could be used for helpful things but not for protection. Supposedly one young lady could become magnetic at will, though not powerful enough to do more than stick reminder notes to herself as one would a fridge. She was the one that had tipped Tim into looking into the case, having received a head's up from her via his social media that something didn't feel right and she thought she was being followed about an hour before no one had heard from her again.

Tim, ever the diligent one, had taken it upon himself to find a way in that didn't involve pretending to have some kind of meta-human property. And Damian, knowing what he was doing, had helped him build up a past record of his _expertise_. Together, they'd dyed his hair, let him grow in a bit of facial hair, and fitted him for contacts that were able to be worn for a month without changing them or taking them out. It was all in the details, down the point where Tim had asked for Dick's help on a few moves to get himself even more prepared for what he was going to do.

Now, days later, Damian found himself utterly unable to let go of the idea that he desperately wanted to _see_ Tim like this – up on the stage, his clothing coming off bit by bit. 

Damian swallowed thickly, hunching over the table and watching the curtains attentively as they pulled back and Tim stepped out on stage. 

It wasn't at all what Damian had expected. He'd thought perhaps Tim would wear some designer suit pants, perhaps a snap up shirt he could rip open, maybe something shiny underneath, the kind that was typical for male strippers. But there Tim was, clad in clear plastic platform heels, the straps winding up his bare legs to tie behind the knee. His shorts were a _joke_ , given that they were fishnet and bright red in color, crisscrossing their way up to settle low on his hips. A mere scrap of material covered his most intimate parts from view and two Xs of red electrical tape covered his nipples. He had a black feather boa around his neck, had it wound down along his arms and beneath it were gold gloves that came up to his elbows, fingerless, and he'd painted his nails bright red. He wore golden glitter paint, trailing down from his temples and along his neck until it seemed to almost pour down his chest. His hair had been moussed up and had a vibrant red streak up the front. 

Damian was so mesmerized by the way Tim looked, he barely noticed the routine. What he _did_ notice was how very achingly tight his pants were getting. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from rolling his hips, closed his eyes for a moment to try to counteract just how excited he was getting. 

He'd admit he wasn't exactly experienced when it came to things of a sexual nature. There just wasn't time in between everything else he did with his life. College, helping run Wayne Enterprises behind the scenes, being Robin, and understanding what had to take precedence over everything else in his life. It tended toward him ignoring his more base needs, leaving them until they were pent up and desperate before he dealt with them. 

His abdomen felt tight and his balls ached with long-denied release. Tim went to his knees on stage and Damian's cock twitched hard in his slacks. He felt himself let out a little spurt of precum and he couldn't believe he'd reached that level of arousal so quickly that he was sincerely about to lose control right in the middle of a strip club.

Reaching out, he got his hand around the can of energy drink he'd purchased as a part of their requirement for entry and held onto it tightly in some attempt to redirect his attention. 

He watched as Tim reached down and began easing his fishnet shorts down, fingers catching the edge of his scrap of underwear and starting to reveal himself to the patron who'd just placed a hundred dollar bill on the stage in front of him.

Damian bowed his head and took in a much needed calming breath, stared at the table instead of at Tim as he wanted to. 

Sure, it was ridiculous. He'd come here just to be able to see Tim in all his glory, come here to feed one of his kinks that got in the way of him getting laid more than anything else ever had or would. He _liked_ getting worked up like this. Enjoyed the lack of control he had over his body, the way he'd tremble with desire, the way his cheeks burned with his arousal. Hell, he loved the fact that the most he'd ever done with someone had been the frantic kisses he'd once shared with Jon so many years ago. 

He remembered discovering his sexuality that night, feeling the awakening beast deep in his gut, and he recalled the exact taste of Jon's mouth, even now. At the same time, he recalled the fear of discovery, of knowing he couldn't ever go further than that with _Superman's_ son, understanding that they were walking on egg shells even with just the single incident, and for years Jon had been the only one he'd thought of sexually.

And then, he'd walked in on Tim going at it with Stephanie. Sure, they'd been under the covers, but Damian wasn't stupid; he knew Tim had been _inside her_ , knew she had been on the verge of an orgasm and he'd interrupted. 

He'd bolted, holed himself up in his room, and for days he'd been wrecked with how often the image came back to him, with how much he wanted to focus on _sex_ above all else. All he could think about was Tim: how he'd been _in_ her, how that meant that he'd been _hard_. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see Tim's body moving over hers, could see how powerful he'd looked, how good it must have felt – and he _relished_ that. Relished not knowing how it felt to have someone, and he relished how excited it made him to think about such a small thing. A two second glimpse and he had held onto it for over two years now, clung to it desperately whenever he allowed his sexuality to creep up.

The thing was, he didn't want to _do_ all that much. He didn't actually want to have sex, didn't want to lose the precious piece of himself that got worked up over the smallest things. He wanted to be excited by a peek of Tim's skin between his waistband and t-shirt. He wanted to get a glimpse of him changing into his costume and get so hard he had to hide himself away for a good twenty minutes before it'd go down. And he loved, _loved_ getting so hard that he ached, that his cock flushed with it and he leaked precum into his briefs in absurd quantities. More than all of that, he loved that right now, if he flexed just the right way, he'd orgasm right into his pants. Jizzing himself right in front of all of these people and it would be _so obvious_ because his face always heated up, his cheeks flushed, and he could never hide the blissed out expression he got when he came. 

His cock twitched and more precum leaked into his underwear. He wet his lips and finally lifted his head, knew he was going to allow himself to lose it in public tonight. His cock strained as he stared at the tip of Tim's dick sticking out of the top of his waistband, swore he could see the glisten of it from here. Temptation called to him to dip his hand into his slacks and gather up his precum and coat his tongue with it. Pretend it was _Tim's_. 

His hand shifted to the table from the can, fingertips pressing hard against the metal as he all but panted. He closed his eyes again and waited, listening to the song end, trying to calm himself even the slightest amount. 

Fingertips ghosted over his shoulder and down his arm and he jerked his head up, staring up into Tim's glitter-covered face, watching something he was nearly certain was arousal dancing in his eyes. Tim's hand slid down to tangle with Damian's fingers and he tugged at him lightly. 

"Private room, fifty for twenty minutes." He leaned in closer and breathed out, "Need to talk to you."

Damian almost swore under his breath; instead, he plucked himself out of his seat and tried to fight back his blush at the fact that his cock was pressing right up against the front of his slacks. It had to be comical to onlookers; he was so hard.

Tim led the way through the crowd, easing them down a little hallway and past a couple of bouncers. He couldn't hear anything inside the rooms over the loud music and really, he was a bit thankful for that given what he knew was likely happening in some of them.

Tim led them into one of the curtained off areas and helped Damian settle onto the bench seat. He stood in front of him and Damian did his best not to so much as look at him, already beyond embarrassed with how hard his cock was. 

Tim's hands landed on his shoulders and Damian nearly jerked in surprise, gasping as Tim settled astride his thighs, slid his hands down over Damian's biceps and to his wrists. Tim guided Damian's hands to his hips, settled them there and reached down to put his hands on Damian's thighs, fingertips dangerously close to Damian's cock. He leaned in and while Damian expected details of the case, that wasn't at all what he got.

"Tell me why you torture yourself instead of giving in?"

Damian let out a quiet huff of breath, meaning for it to come out indignant, instead it came as a near-silent whimper. His belly quivered and his cock flexed up hard, more precum squirting into his briefs. It was everything he could do not to simply yank Tim forward and rut against him. It wouldn’t take much, a few helpless thrusts at the most, and he'd have release. His cheeks flushed more and he finally managed to close his eyes instead of keeping right on staring at Tim.

"You're _allowed_ to have pleasure, you know... it's okay, really."

Laughter bubbled up inside Damian, though all that escaped was a hitched little breath, his hands tightening on Tim's hips, releasing a second after as he realized what he was doing.

"Very aware of that."

"Then _why_?" Tim sounded almost distressed, like this was honestly bothering him and not just some ridiculous ploy for any potential cameras. "If not because you don't feel like you're allowed to, then why?"

Damian shook his head a little, his heart starting to pound in his chest. He hadn't expected to be confronted about this, of all things, and he'd never bothered to come up with an answer. Normally he might have done something stupid, maybe shoved Tim off his lap and yelled at him before stomping off. But here, in the club, he couldn't. That'd get him all over the evening news for sure and make him unwelcome here ever again. Really, it was the last thing his reputation needed.

His head hit the wall behind him and he struggled with himself for a moment. If he told Tim, he was chancing how ridiculous this made him look. Right now he had Tim's pity, had him thinking it was some kind of hang up, maybe a product of his past or a fear of what he wanted. But if he showed his hand, then it would become something else entirely. Ridicule over how stupid of a fetish he'd managed to obtain, words that would cut deeper than he wanted to risk. He shook his head again and then gasped as Tim's thumb came to swipe over his lower lip, tugging lightly at the plump flesh before he just cupped Damian's chin.

"Do you not want to?"

Damian shook his head again, then nodded, then sighed. "Not... that." He let out a frustrated sound and all but squirmed under Tim. Images of Tim kissing him, rutting against him, hell, of Tim just exposing himself to him like he had the patron out front while Damian had foolishly looked away peppered his mind. He loved it, loved the idea of Tim still being erect though he didn't know for sure if he was or not. 

Tim, erect and on his lap and – 

Damian's cock strained and panic seized him as he thought for sure he was about to ejaculate. His thighs tensed and he forced himself to relax the other muscles, the ones that mattered for orgasm. A few seconds passed and he found himself staring intently down at his own cock, at the damp spot that was so obvious around the head, the way the material was sticky with his precum. 

"You get off on it." Tim's voice was so _reverent_ , so much the opposite of what Damian had expected to hear from him when he figured it out. 

His hips jerked and he slammed his fist against his own hip in an effort to abort his body from his impending orgasm. 

Tim moaned over him, leaned closer, one hand on the wall behind him, the other sliding up over his own covered erection and then gripping the material, pulling it down until he'd exposed himself for Damian. "Oh God, _please_ get off on this."

Damian couldn't help the high pitched keening that left him at the words, at Tim's cock right here where he could see it. His hips jerked again and he slid his hand back onto Tim's hip, holding on as he just stared down at Tim, panting he was so turned on.

Tim shifted in his grip, moved to ease the head of his cock over the wet spot on Damian's pants, and that was all it took.

Damian cried out, his hips arching up hard, his cock straining, and then he was cumming, spurt after spurt of his release coating the inside of his pants, leaking out through the fabric pressed tightly to the head of his prick.

He watched Tim push his cock through the mess of it, watched his own cum string between them as Tim nudged Damian's cock with his own, again and again, until Damian was gasping, his hips rocking frantically, until Tim finally crushed them up against one another and began to thrust quick and desperate against Damian's still very erect cock.

"Fuck... _Damian_ ," Tim breathed out the words into his ear, trembled in his grip, and then he was snapping his hips forward and tensing and then choking out a strangled little sound and Damian felt the warmth of Tim's cum seeping into his pants, right up against his cock.

He strained and trembled under Tim, closed his eyes and begged everything that would listen for a second orgasm, to be able to release all this tension once again. 

Tim's hand curled around his clothed erection and squeezed until Damian had to shove his hand against his own mouth to quell the shout that wanted out as he lost it a second time. His hips jerked roughly, his body chasing after pleasure until he was empty and quivering in Tim's hand. 

He eased back against the seat, his belly shaking from the rough pull of his orgasms. Tim shifted over him, letting go of his cock and instead curling himself almost protectively around Damian, his breath hot against his neck, arms around him as if to hide him away from the rest of the world. "So beautiful. Wish I could have heard you scream for me... I want to sometime. When you can't take it anymore, can't take the tease of it and you need your release... come to me. _Please_."

Damian slid his hands from Tim's hips, ghosted them up over his sides and then back down to his hips, just nodding a little as he stared up at the ceiling, marveling in the feeling of just having had his first and second orgasm with someone else. The feeling of his cooling cum in his pants was a relief, something he was used to by way of his own kinks, having grown used to losing it in his pants long, long ago. 

A memory, sharper than it had been in the past, veered itself upward in his mind. His hand clutching the banister on his way up to the second floor of the mansion. His thighs pressed tightly together and his muscles trembling from the effort of trying not to shoot in his pants. The way he'd stood there almost a full minute trying to control himself and then he'd taken one step and nearly lost his balance as he'd started to cum, shooting hot and thick into his pants right there on the staircase where anyone could have seen him.

He recalled the sound of a door shutting upstairs and remembered having been too embarrassed to try to find out who it had been. He'd been so careful after that, avoided giving himself that sort of sweet torture anywhere so public again – until tonight.

"Last year, Christmas..."

"I saw you and what happened on the stairs, yes." Tim's voice was soft, lilted in a way that told Damian he was _pleased_ , and he shivered slightly beneath him.

"You never brought it up."

Tim huffed out a little laugh, the sound of it gentle. "No way. Of course I didn't." A soft press of his lips against Damian's neck and then, "Why would I tell you I stood there and intentionally watched you jizz yourself for _my_ pleasure?"

Damian's breath caught and then hitched inward. "You liked it?"

"Understatement." Tim nuzzled up under his jaw. "You're gonna owe me like a hundred if we don't leave in a minute."

"Don't care." Damian let his thumbs rub against Tim's fishnet clad hips. "I don't... I will not want to have sex."

He could feel Tim's smile against his neck, shivered at the lick he got right behind it. "I'm aware of that. Maybe... I enjoy your torture."

"Sadistic prick." Damian intoned it in such a way that Tim snorted.

"Masochistic little shit." He leaned back and pinched Damian's chin between two fingers. "See, I can teach you things to make this feeling last. Even if you do ever lose your virginity. It doesn't _have_ to be about that. From what I can tell, you like the helplessness, the feeling that you could cum at any second, right in front of someone, disgrace yourself. You like all of your tells and you don't want to lose them to experience. I _get_ that, but even as you do gain experience, you can replace those things with newer things, other exciting stuff that will do just the same sort of thing to you. _Promise_."

Damian could feel himself blushing, shuddered slightly as his cock flexed against his slacks, very much fully erect once again. 

"You're so pent up it'll take years to get through that part alone, much less wear off the novelty of any given situation. I bet you could come watch me every night, do _this_ every night, and you'd still walk out of here just as hard as you are right now."

Damian's hips jerked and he panted roughly as Tim reached down and jacked him through his pants for a few seconds. He extracted himself from Damian's lap, gave him the sassy little smile Damian had always adored, and started to fix up his little undergarments and his fishnets to try to cover his own cock. "See, all I have to do is leave you high and dry – leave you wanting to jack off so badly it hurts and knowing you _can't_ , you're gonna explode on the way home. The right little movement, the wrong flex of your muscles, and you'll be jizzing yourself while clutching the back of a public park bench." Tim grinned at him. "My what an image that invokes."

He held out his hand. "Pay up. I'll cut you slack since I'm tossing you out early. Seventy-five."

Damian extracted his wallet, wrenched out a hundred and shoved it in Tim's hand, half-snarling out, "Keep the damn change."

Tim leaned in, cupped his cheek and pressed the sweetest, most chaste kiss to his lips before shoving a box of tissues at him and turning to get the curtain. "Don't you dare jack off... I want the story later of how far you got before you shoot in your pants."

Damian groaned as he watched Tim go, stared after him as he snatched up tissues and mopped up where Tim and he had left their marks on his pants. It was obvious, no way around it, even cleaned up he still glistened with his spilled pre-cum, with the dampness of their actual cum.

It took him another minute before he schooled his features and meandered out of the back, crossed the dimly lit club, and slipped out into the night.

Tim was going to be the death of him.


End file.
